


jon stuck, martin in love

by missHapp



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, First Dates, Fluff, Getting Together, Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist Behaves Like a Cat, Literal Sleeping Together, M/M, Mentioned Tape Recorders (The Magnus Archives), Season/Series 01, Sharing a Bed, completely ignores canon (ik i said it took place in s1 but only vaguely), jon is a cat but we been knew, lots of ellipses were used, not be being sad while writing jon as a not so great person, otherwise known as:, there's a lot of talk about my mug headcanons
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-20
Updated: 2020-12-20
Packaged: 2021-03-10 19:34:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,939
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28182474
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/missHapp/pseuds/missHapp
Summary: Have you ever encountered your boss in a strange situation? Have they ever been stuck behind a fridge and asked for your help? Have any of these situations made you fall harder for said boss? If you answered yes to any of these questions, you may be Martin K Blackwood and you really need to learn how to ask your head archivist out on a date.---Alternatively Titled: 5 times Jon Got Stuck (There's No +1)
Relationships: Martin Blackwood/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist
Comments: 11
Kudos: 129





	jon stuck, martin in love

**Author's Note:**

> did writing this fic make me forget that the magnus archives, a podcast distributed by rusty quill, licensed under a creative commons non attribution sharealike 4.0 international license is actually a horror story? mm, kinda. do i wish for all of you to do feel the same? yes, because after what we've been through (*cough*martinisnotgoingtobeokay*cough) we deserve tooth rotting fluff like this.  
> hope you enjoy!

“Martin?”

He looked up from his phone. Had someone just called out to him? He scanned the break room once, twice… no one was looking at him. Maybe it was someone from outside? He opened the door to see Sasha completely focused on her work, and Tim completely focused on some game on his phone. 

That only left Jon. But he wouldn’t call out to him, surely. Or would he? _No, no. It was just my imagination_ , he thought as he walked back to the breakroom. When he got there, the kettle had finished boiling and Martin went on with making the others’ tea. 

Take the mugs out, admire them, put the tea bags in, then the water, and wait for it to brew. Yes, admiring his coworker’s mugs was part of his daily routine. In his defense, they were extremely interesting. 

I mean, he didn’t so much admire Tim’s mug so much as he questioned its existence. It was on brand, sure, but god was it an eye sore. The mug was covered in the pink, purple, and blue of the bisexual flag with the words “bisexuali-tea” written in cursive on it. 

Sasha’s was a normal red mug until you saw what was on the inside of the handle. ‘Property of the I Hate Elias Club’. When Martin first saw the text, his first thought was _can I join?_

Mr Bouchard was doing a terrible job of running the Institute. Martin would never say it out loud like Tim does, but they all thought it. He was _never_ around, and to be quite frank, he was just as spooky as the rest of the Institute. But the absolute strangest thing about Elias was that he didn’t drink tea. Once, Sasha suggested that he may not drink at all. Maybe he just didn’t need liquids and survived purely off his employees’ misery. 

Martin started filling his own mug, which was covered in a pattern of little olives, his favorite snack. And then there was Jon’s. The first time he made everyone tea, Martin was confused as to why there was a shortage of cups. He thought everyone had their own. He went out to ask someone about this and was told by Sasha that Jon kept his mug in his office. 

This happened a couple weeks into his job at the Archives, and he’d _already_ developed a crush on Jon. At the thought of going into his office to ask for the mug, Martin’s stomach had twisted itself into knots.

So he didn’t make Jon tea. Not until another few days had passed. After a while, Martin decided to just screw it. He walked into Jon’s office with a confidence he hadn’t had in a while. 

The other man looked surprised to see him.

“Hello Martin. What can I do for you?” he asked.

“Hi Jon, I was just wondering if I could take your mug? I’m making tea for everyone today,”

“Yes, it’s just over there,” he pointed to a shelf. “I hope this doesn’t interfere with your research into the Jamie Park case,”

Martin walked over, grabbing the mug. “No, it won’t. I’m really quick at making tea.”

He just hummed back at him.

Jon’s mug was not what you’d expect from someone so stuck up. The conclusion that Martin eventually came to was that it was a gift. I mean, no one would buy themselves something that read “the world’s okayest boss”, would they?

The tea had finished brewing by now, and Martin snapped himself out of his thoughts. 

He took Sasha and Tim’s tea out first, setting them down on their respective desks.

“Thanks Marto!” said Tim. “You’re the best.”

“What Tim said,” mumbled Sasha, her mouth already on the mug.

Martin smiled and went to fetch the last cup.

He walked into Jon’s office with butterflies in his stomach and a nervous smile. To which he found his boss stuck between the wall and a filing cabinet.

One of his legs was sticking out, but other than that, Jonathan Sims had somehow managed to get his twig body right up against the wall. His face barely moved when he spoke.

“What—” 

“Don’t. Just… don’t.”

“Um, do you need help getting out or…?”

Jon sighed. “No, Martin. With your help, I’d probably just get even more stuck.”

Well wasn’t that just a punch to the gut. He bit his lip. He didn’t want to leave just yet, but there wasn’t any reason for him to stay, so it was getting a bit awkward.

He decided on setting the tea down and walking out. 

  
“Don’t tell Tim about this!” shouted Jon, just as Martin opened the door. 

“Tell me what?”

“Nothing!”

“Sure, Martin. Sure…”

\---

Fortunately, Jon managed to get himself unstuck by the end of the day. Unfortunately, it was only a few days later when he found Jon in a similar situation to before.

This time, he was called in. He had just come back from interviewing a statement giver when he got a text. It was from Jon. 

Martin’s heart skipped a beat as he opened it.

_Please meet me in the breakroom. Don’t alert anyone, but I’m stuck._

He had a mini flashback to when he saw Jon in his office. He was stuck again? And in the breakroom this time? 

He put his things down at his desk as quickly as he could and rushed into the breakroom. 

“Jon?” he asked.

“I’m, uh, over here.” he replied. 

Martin looked around, scanning the room. Jon’s voice sounded close, but he was nowhere to be found. 

“Sorry, where? I don’t see you.”

“I’m in the chair,”

“What?”

“I’m _in the chair,_ ”

He looked at the table that was in the middle of the breakroom and the chairs that were surrounding it. One of them had tipped over. Martin walked over to that one to see Jon. His bum had gone through the gap of the chair between the seat and the back, and he was laid on the floor, stuck. 

Martin had to stifle his laughter. 

“Help me get up.” he said.

Martin nodded and stretched out his hands for Jon to grab on to. Then, he pulled him up. 

“Do you need help getting out of the chair—”

“No! No. I’m perfectly capable of doing this on my own.” he hesitated before saying, “T-thank you for your help thus far, but you can go now, Martin,”

“Alright then. And I’m assuming you don’t want me to tell Tim?”

“Of course I don’t want you to tell Tim! Now go and do your job!”

“Right,” 

When he got back to his desk, Sasha gave him an odd look, glanced at the breakroom, and glanced back at him. She didn’t say anything, but he knew she was definitely wondering what happened.

Tim remained oblivious to the whole thing as he was too busy texting someone. Martin let out a sigh of relief. 

_Now,_ he thought. _Work_. 

A few minutes later, he was in a trance. Being an archival assistant required lots and lots of typing. Sometimes he stopped to take a sip of tea, but it was mostly typing. This typing wasn’t particularly interesting or fun, since it was copying things from paper and putting them on the computer, so Martin’s brain sort of becomes mush when he’s doing his job. 

The only time when he really challenges himself is when he’s at home, writing his poetry. If he didn’t have that, then he’d most likely become a zombie. Hm, perhaps he’d even end up in one of the Archive’s statements. 

All of a sudden, his phone buzzed. It was from Jon. Again. 

_It appears I may need further assistance with the chair._

He was still stuck then. _Not so ‘perfectly capable’ now, are you?_ He thought. _Maybe I won’t even go and help him. Jon’s always pushing me away when I can do things, so why should I feel bad for him now?_

And so began Martin’s five minutes of petty resistance. When the five minutes were over, he did start to feel guilty for not going to help his boss, and he gave in. 

“Finally. Where were you?” asked Jon, flailing slightly in the chair. Being exasperated in his situation was quite dangerous. There was always the chance that he could have fallen.

“... The bathroom,” he lied.

“Oh.”

There was a moment of awkward silence between them, before Martin suddenly moved to help Jon. 

He held on to the chair as Jon half wiggled, half pushed himself out. Once he got out, he looked disheveled. It was nice seeing him like that, not all prim and proper. It was a reminder that even Jonathan Sims, Head Archivist of the Magnus Institute was a person. 

“Alright, Martin, you can go now.” 

“Yeah,”

As he was walking back to his desk, Martin wondered how he developed feelings for this man. He was rude, stubborn, and all around not very pleasant to be around. Maybe it was the fact that he found Jon attractive? Martin thought himself a person who looked beyond shallow attraction, but that could just be a white lie he told himself. What other excuse could he have for torturing himself like this, taking meager scraps of affection and thinking of them as something more. 

Oh god. This was getting sad. He really needed to get over Jon before he started to wax poetic over him. And work! Work was important too. 

\---

Martin took back his previous statement. Work was definitely not as important to him as he had thought. Jon had gotten stuck for the third fucking time. He hadn’t asked Martin for any help, but he’d spotted his situation from a mile away. It was loads more fun to watch him try and wriggle his arm out from behind the fridge than do mindless busywork. 

After about three minutes of staring, Sasha caught on.

“Is that Jon?” she whispered. Somehow, without him noticing, she’d pushed herself and her wheelie chair right next to his ear. Martin let out a yelp.

“Uh, no, no of course it’s not Jon that I was looking at. Because I wasn’t looking at anyone. Ahaha there’s no one even there!”

“...Right.” she said, obviously not meaning it.

God, he really needed to get better at lying. His habit of wringing his hands also had to stop. But who was he kidding? He was Martin K Blackwood, nervous wreck extraordinaire, and that wasn’t changing anytime soon. 

Something that _had_ changed, though, was Jon’s stuck-ness. He was significantly less stuck than he had been a couple minutes ago. Not stuck at all, actually. 

_Good for him, I guess_ , thought Martin. Not so good for him though, since he had to go back to doing his job. 

Unless…

Martin got out his phone and clicked on “Jon Sims”. 

_Why did you think sticking your arm behind the fridge was a good idea?_

He waited a moment, then saw Read At 11:26am appear underneath his message. The other man began to type. And type. And type some more. It must’ve been a solid seven or eight minutes when Martin finally got a text back.

_Do your job, don’t text me._

_Well then why were you texting me?_ Martin wondered. 

He didn’t end up texting Jon back, since that would’ve probably made it worse. 

\---

The day went by slowly, as usual, with nothing out of the ordinary happening until the very end. Tim and Sasha left as quickly as they could to go out for drinks, while Martin stayed back for a bit to see if they’d left anything behind. Those two would most likely forget the bottom halves of their bodies if they were desperate enough to leave work. At times, Martin felt like a single parent with two small children who also had absolutely terrible memory. 

It turned out that Tim had left his wallet, of all things, on his desk. It was to be expected, though Martin still shook his head in disappointment. He pulled out his phone to quickly text Tim about his wallet. When he got about halfway through the message, he heard a crash. 

Elias’ office. It had come from Elias’ office. There usually weren’t loud crashes that came from his office, but everyone makes mistakes. Martin chose to ignore it, and finished writing the text. 

As soon as he pressed send, he remembered that Elias always left the Institute one hour earlier than everyone else. The only individual who could possibly be in Elias’ office right then was Jonathon Sims. 

“You know what?” Martin murmured to himself, “I guarantee he’s stuck again. I mean seriously, after this whole week I could bet an arm and a leg—”

Lo and behold, when he turned the doorknob to open the door, what did he see? Jon. 

Actually no. At first, there was no Jon. Except there was a big cardboard box in the corner of Elias’ office that wasn’t there before. It was tall, the opening facing towards the ceiling. Martin was curious to what was inside. Maybe there wasn’t anything. It had already been opened, so possibly whatever was inside had been taken out. 

As he walked closer to the box, he noticed it start to shake. It paused, but just as quickly started up again. He was beginning to think that someone was… inside. 

Suddenly the box tipped right over and Martin caught it on reflex. A cry erupted from inside. Martin peeked into the opening and saw what he suspected all along.

“This is like the fourth time, Jon,” he said.

There was no response. He sighed. 

“Do you need any help this time?”

All he got was a nod that wasn’t really a nod because in order to shift his head, Jon kind of moved his whole body. Martin took that as a reluctant yes, and began to lift Jon out by his armpits. 

Once he had his grumpy boss out of the box, he offered him a chair. He took it. The moments that follow are full of tense energy and a lot of shifting eyes, desperately shying away from each other because eye contact would be too much. 

“So…” Jon said.

“So,”

“Why are we sitting here?” 

“Why were you in that box?”

“It was a package, and Elias instructed me to open it for him.”

“But you don’t open a package by climbing inside of the box… or have I missed a new trend?”

“... I like boxes,”

At that, Martin burst out in laughter. A good thirty seconds went by before he stopped and saw Jon’s pained expression.

“I’m sorry.” he said. “Uh, I was being really unprofessional and I apologise. Really I thought it was sort of funny because, well, Tim’s always saying how you’re built like a poorly fed cat and this reminded me of that. It also reminded me of those videos that have cats getting stuck in the most random of places and recently… Again, sorry, sorry, I shouldn’t be saying this, please don’t fire me?”

Jon chuckled. “I won’t fire you for helping me out of situations and keeping secrets for me. But don’t think I’ll hesitate to if you reveal anything that happened here, alright?”

Martin gulped, and quickly nodded.

“Now, feel free to go. But if you do want to stay, I’ll be here for a few more hours,” said Jon.

He had two options here, go and give Tim back his wallet and then come back to do his work or not give the wallet back and spend more time with Jon. Of course, he wouldn’t be having conversations with his boss, but Martin was a lovestruck fool. He’d do a lot to spend time in the same building with Jon.

So he decided to leave Tim’s wallet exactly where it was. 

_It’s time for some more archiving, and staring at Jon._ he thought. 

That’s basically how the night went, nothing interesting happened at all. The end.

…Kidding. This was the Magnus Institute. What actually happened was that the lights went out. And then they came back on. Then they went out. They weren’t flickering, since there was a good two minutes in between each switching of the lights. 

Martin had a great fear of the dark, but two minutes at a time wasn’t that bad! Right? 

The lights went out yet another time, and it stayed that way. He realised he had started hyperventilating. His heart felt like a thunderstorm trying to break out of his chest. He put a hand there to try and stop it, but it did nothing. From somewhere closeby, he swore he heard a tape recorder switch on.

“Are you still there, Martin?” Jon called from his office.

“Yeah!” he replied. 

“Do you have a torch?”

“No, and I can’t find one! Do you have one?”

“I do, actually. I’m going to go over to you, just stay where you are!”

Martin nodded, even though he knew Jon couldn’t see him. He sat there shaking until he saw a bright light pierce the darkness. He blinked the dark spots at the sides of his vision away and the familiar outline of Jon and his beautiful hair came into focus. 

“Hey,” he said. “Are you okay?”

Martin shook his head. “I’m… afraid of the dark…”

“Oh same. I’m terrified right now.”

He smiled. _It’s nice to see him with his walls down. He’s much less of an arse now._

“Let’s get out of here,” said Jon, offering a hand to Martin. He blushed as he took it. Jon’s hands were as cold as they were bony, and they were _very_ bony. He wondered, if he were to hug him, would his body be as cold as his hands were?

The sound of a doorknob rattling shook him out of his thoughts. Jon’s face went very still.

“We’re locked in,” he said.

“...What about the windows?” Martin asked.

“Mr Blackwood, are you suggesting that we leap out of the building? That’s rather out of character for you,”

“Jon, I will take any chance I can get to jump out of a building,”

For a moment, he was speechless. Then, he laughed. He didn’t even hold back! Jonathan Sims was doing a full body laugh right in front of him, and it was absolutely beautiful. 

“Well…” started Jon. “Well, actually same—”

And Martin giggled. He was so funny, how did he miss that before?

“But really, we should check if the windows are locked,” said Martin.

They walked over to a window and took it by its handles. It was also locked. 

“Damn,” said Jon.

“Does that mean we’ll have to stay overnight?” he asked.

“Probably. But not to worry, there’s this cot that I set up one night. I use it whenever I’m working late.”

“How big is it?”

“It’s only held me before, but if we squeeze ourselves together enough, I’m sure it’ll work,”

He was going to be in the same bed as Jon. The butterflies in his stomach were going crazy. He didn’t even question if Jon was simply offering out of politeness because everyone who worked with him knew that he hated to be touched. Once, Sasha poked his arm and he _actually_ hissed at her. This one time, Martin allowed himself to feel like he could have this. He could have this moment with the man he had feelings for, and there was no room for needless guilt. 

Their backs were pressed together underneath the thin blanket that came with the cot, and Martin’s cheeks were fiery red. He tried his best to ignore the voice in his head telling him to lean into the touch and instead focused on going to sleep. 

Then he heard the soft snores that Jon was making, and that proved to be harder than he thought. He pressed his back just a little closer and _melted_. And then Jon turned around. 

They were spooning now. Martin found he quite liked being the little spoon.

The next morning, they woke up on the ground. They were still spooning, and that freaked Martin out a little bit. When Jon woke up, he basically ignored the position they were in, carrying on like it was normal. 

“G-Good morning,” Martin stuttered.

Jon only hummed in response. He rubbed at his eyes and put on his glasses. Then he promptly walked off, probably to get a cup of coffee. 

That left Martin, still on the floor, completely stunned. What the hell?

He sat there, puzzled for a few minutes before deciding to go along with it, and got up to go get his own cup of tea.

Jon still didn’t really acknowledge him as he made his drink, just sitting and sipping in silence. It was only when he downed the last mouthful that he looked up at Martin with a sheepish look on his face.

He cleared his throat. “I apologize for that. I get quite disgruntled before I get caffeine in my system, and I didn’t want to bother you with that,”

“No worries,” replied Martin. 

Then came the uncomfortable silence.

“And… about last night—”

“You don’t have to apologise for it!” he interrupted. “If anything, I should be apologising. It was sort of creepy for me to accept, considering my massive crush on you. Yeah, I know it’s really weird to like your boss, but I…” he sighed. He couldn’t look at Jon.

“I actually didn’t know that.”

“...Don’t try and make me feel better—”

“Martin, to be frank… I don’t really mind?”

“What.”

He scratched the back of his neck. “You’re nice. _It_ would be nice. To ha-have you,” 

Jon swallowed, avoiding Martin’s gaze. A bead of sweat was culminating on his brow, but he made no move to wipe it away.

Martin simply stared. This was not at all the reaction he was expecting. He tried to form a sentence multiple times, failing with each attempt. 

And then just as he was about to speak, Sasha walked in. 

This was the only time when he really, really didn’t want her to be around. 

“Hello Martin, Jon,” she said, putting her bag down. 

“Hi Sasha,” Martin sighed. He adjusted his glasses and found that Jon had gone running off to his office. He felt a headache coming on. A distraction. That’s what he needed.

Turning on his computer, Martin opened up Youtube before plugging his headphones in and turning the volume up. He really hoped his old music would help him forget about what had happened. 

For a good while, it did. And then came the text.

It read: _I’m better at explaining things over things like texting when there’s no actual talking involved. So please let me articulate my thoughts better in these messages. First off, I never knew you had feelings for me, and it was quite a shock when you told me. Secondly, I meant everything that I said two hours ago. They were embarrassing and I’m trying not to think about them too much, but you should know that I was one hundred percent not lying. And last but not least, I have a question. If it’s not too much to ask, would you like to come get some lunch with me in an hour or so?_

Martin furiously started to type back.

\--- 

Lunch with Jon was exciting and comfortable. The restaurant wasn’t packed, nor was it an empty waste land. The food was spectacular, and they both enjoyed themselves. Martin even got to hear him laugh again.

And who knows? They might have gone out for lunch again the next day.

**Author's Note:**

> comment and kudos this fic or else i'll send oliver banks to whisper to you in your four month coma


End file.
